


Room for Cream

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Exes, Flirting, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Percy stood there long moments watching Oliver’s back as he walked across the small cafe, situating himself in the seat by the window. He remembered the last time he’d seen Oliver walking away from him—broken-hearted and defeated—and knew this time would be different.This time Percy knew what he wanted and he was going to be brave enough to get it.





	Room for Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your speedy beta help AB during this fun bingo week!
> 
> Written for the Rarepair Bingo. Fills include tattoo artist, mansweat, every little thing makes me think of when you loved me, you look at me and I can't breathe

On the list of things Percy hated most —sandwiched somewhere between his siblings’ neverending jokes about his nonexistent dating life, the unstable economy, and the recent price increase of Freddos—were customers who tried to get creative with their coffee orders. He didn’t know why they insisted on ordering _  three shots of espresso, short pulls, light on the milk and heavy on the foam with two shots of vanilla syrup _  when they could simply order a vanilla cappuccino. Or why they liked to order their coffee with no room for milk only for  Percy to see them quite clearly dumping coffee in the bloody rubbish bin to make room for cream—and didn’t they know actual people had to empty those bins. Hot coffee didn’t belong in the bin!

“Percy, get your arse out here! Your break is over!” Ron yelled.

Percy sighed heavily, making his way out of the backroom and frowning when he was greeted by his brother’s smiling face. “Took you long enough. What, were you wanking back there?”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, that’s inappropriate language to display in front of customers.”

Ron flipped him off, lifting his eyebrows and throwing his hands up. “There are no customers.”

“That’s not the point, it’s still —” but his lecture was cut short by the bell above the front door ringing. Percy felt grateful to have a customer; it’d been a slow week at The Burrow and while his mum kept insisting they would be fine, Percy knew if business didn’t pick up, his parents would lose the business.

“Sorry, are you open?” the man asked, pushing the hood off his hair and all the air left Percy’s lungs.

“Oliver.”

Oliver looked up, his blank look transforming into recognition as he looked at Percy. Oliver’s gaze was as bold as ever as he approached the counter. He looked exactly like Percy remembered him from school—painfully attractive, athletic and rugged with his strong jaw and bright eyes, a kind smile, and still about a million miles out of Percy’s league.

“Percy! What are you doing here? I thought for sure you’d be working in Parliament by now. What’s it been? Ten years?” Oliver’s smile was easy just like it had always been and Percy had to wonder if Oliver was truly pleased to see him—no one ever was—or if he’d just gotten better at faking enthusiasm.

“Notoriety is taking a little longer than I anticipated. I work here when I’m not studying; it’s a family business. I’m going for my PhD in comparative political economy, though,” he confessed. “Studying modernisation of regimes. Writing a dissertation responding to Przeworski and Limongi (1997).”

“I’m a tattoo artist now,” Oliver offered, though Percy hadn’t asked. Oliver wondered how he’d got there, how Oliver, who had never had enough room in his heart to love anything except football, had somehow ended up not playing professionally—but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask.

“That sounds creative,” Percy said. Oliver straightened up as he nodded and Percy was surprised at the thrill he felt to have been the one to make Oliver stand taller.

“So, do you like it?” Oliver asked, rubbing his hands over the stubble at his jaw.

“School or working here?” Percy asked.

Oliver smiled. “Both. Either one.”

“Why?” Percy queried.

He expected Oliver to give up and finally order but instead Oliver barked out a laugh. “I forgot how you, you were. You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

Percy bristled. “Listen, I—,” but Oliver looked taken aback and reached across the counter to place his hand atop Percy’s. His finger’s were shorter, but his hands broader. In that moment it all rushed back to Percy—stolen kisses in the broom closet, confessions of love that Percy hadn’t been brave enough to return, the way it’d been years before Percy had been able to get over the way every little thing reminded him of when Oliver had loved him.

“I like that you haven’t changed.”

Percy opened his mouth to speak, then realised Ron was standing there watching them with his mouth open. “Oh, go clean the back room!” Percy hissed, grateful when Ron actually listened for the first time in his life, muttering to himself about Percy being an insufferable git as he walked into the back room.

“Did you—did you want to order something?” Percy asked, hand burning beneath Oliver’s touch but unable to move.

“What I want most won’t be on the menu.”

Percy sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t understand how Oliver did that, had never understood the way Oliver could be so honest about what he wanted. It’d terrified Percy then and it terrified him now. The only difference was this time Percy knew what he wanted was worth the fear.

“Do you still take your coffee the same?” Percy asked.

Oliver looked confused by the question but nodded his assent. Percy pulled his hand back, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron—fuck, he hated the way he sweated when he was nervous—and offered Oliver a shaky smile.

Percy thought saying  _ you look at me and I can’t breathe _  was probably too much so instead he said, “Take a seat in the corner. My break is in five minutes, anyway. We can talk.”

“You just had a break!” Ron screamed from the back room and Percy felt close to cursing at him. Merlin, Ron was a pain in the arse. The only thing that stopped him was the smile Oliver cast him—as if he knew what the offer for coffee and a talk had cost Percy. It was enough for Percy to ignore the desire to disown his baby brother.

“I’d like that,” Oliver answered.

Percy stood there for long moments watching Oliver’s back as he walked across the small cafe, situating himself in the seat by the window. He remembered the last time he’d seen Oliver walking away from him—broken hearted and defeated—and knew this time would be different.

This time, Percy knew what he wanted and he was going to be brave enough to get it.


End file.
